Mum, Dad, Grandmother and Weems Read Theodosia
by t s wolff
Summary: Exactly as it says!  Very hilarious, I shall try to update quickly, unlike in my other stories.  You should really read it; it's rather funny!  Read it if you liked my 'Reading the Lost Hero' story!
1. Chapter 1: Mother Sends A Surprise

THEODOSIA IS REVEALED to MUM, DAD, GRANDMA and WEEMS

**You might think that I stopped writing my stories. That's true, because I didn't have enough time for them. BUT now it's Spring Break! I do have time for them! But first I'll do this. I didn't know that there was a Theodosia section! I just HAD to do this. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I might be a little OOC with the people reading, but just a little, and only because they seem to be minor characters. Wait till Grandma hears about her description!**

Theodosia's mother was having jam sandwiches with Theodosia's father when Vicary Weems, the First Assistant Curator, came in, along with a very irritated Grandmother. "Um... well, hello, mother-in-law," gulped Dad (I'll call him dad and Grandmother Grandmother and Theodosia's mum Mum). "What is the meaning of this?" Grandma snapped.

"I was just wondering that same thing," agreed Mum.

"I have found a book," announced Weems. The crowd fell silent, amazed that Weems would interrupt a lunch for a book. Except Grandmother.

"THAT'S what you came here to tell us? What you dragged me here to see?" she exclaimed, outraged.

"It says Theodosia on the front cover."

Now everybody was quiet.

"Who's it by?" Dad asked suspiciously.

"I don't know the gender, but it's supposedly by R. L. LaFevers," replied Weems.

"Well, should we read it?" asked Grandmother.

"It's about my daughter, your granddaugher, I think we should read it," responded Mum.

"Well, get on with it!" snapped Grandmother.

"Weems, begin," ordered Dad. Weems opened to the first page.

**To clever girls everywhere who get tired of feeling like no one's listening.**

"Hmm... do you think that's how Theodosia feels?" pondered Mum.

**And to Kate O'Sullivan, who is very, very clever and not the least bit bossy.**

"Who's that?" wondered Grandmother.

"We don't know, mother," sighed Dad.

**I don't trust Clive Fagenbush.**

"And frankly, neither do I," agreed Weems.

**How can you trust a person who has eyebrows as thick and black as hairbrushes and smells of boiled cabbage and pickled onions?**

"That isn't EXACTLY how I was going to put it..." muttered Weems.

**Besides, I'm beginning to suspect he's up to something.**

"You hit the nail on the head, young lady!" scowled Weems.

**What's worse, I think he suspects I'm up to something.**

"Which you usually are," snapped Grandmother.

"Mother, you're talking to a book," Mum reminded her.

"Nonsense!" scolded Grandmother. "I have more sense than that."

"Proceed, Weems," sighed Dad.

**Which I usually am.**

**Not that anybody would take the word of an eleven-year-old girl against that of the Second Assistant Curator.**

"Naturally," said Grandmother.

**Even if that girl just happens to be the daughter of the Head Curator of the museum and is rather cleverer than most (or so I've been told; oddly, I don't think they meant it as a compliment).**

"Why is that odd?" wondered Grandmother.

**As far as I can tell, it doesn't make any difference to adults how clever children are.**

"Now Theodosia, that's not true," protested Mum, but she knew that it was.

**They always stick together. Unless you are sick or dying or mortally wounded, they will always side with the other adult.**

**That's certainly the case here, anyway. My father oversees the Museum of Legends and Antiquities, the second largest museum in London. As a result, I spend most of my time clattering around this old place.**

"The horrors! What bad influences on the child," exclaimed Grandmother, and scowled at Dad. Dad sunk lower in his chair.

**I don't mind. Really. Well, not much anyway. Though it would be nice if Father remembered I was here once in a while...**

"Have you been ignoring our daughter?" exclaimed a shocked Mum. Dad was nearly on the floor, he was so low in his chair.

**However, I've got plenty to do. The museum's got loaded of secrets, and I've discovered I'm very good a t ferreting out the secrets.**

"A bad sign if you're a child," sighed Grandmother.

**And curses.**

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING TO THE CHILD ABOUT?" screamed Grandmother.

"N-nothing," stammered Dad.

**You'd be surprised at how many things come into the museum loaded with curses, bad ones. Ancient, dark, Egyptian-magic ones.**

"WHAT HAVE YOU TAUGHT THIS CHILD?" shouted Grandmother.

"We never taught her such things," replied a shocked Mum. "I don't know where they came from..."

**Take this morning, for example, when a crate arrived from Mum.**

"Oh, dear. This must be about that time when you discovered and lost the Heart of Egypt," grumbled Dad.

"I didn't lose it; it was stolen, dear," protested Mum.

**At the sound of the buzzer, I hurried down to Receiving. Dolge and Sweeny, the museum's two hired hands, were just opening the doors to the loading area. Yellow fog began oozing into the room like a runny pudding.**

"What a horrid description!" exclaimed Grandmother.

**Outside, I could make out the drayman, blowing on his fingers and stamping his feet, trying to stay warm as he waited next to his cart. His carriage lanterns were lit and looked like two fuzy halos in the thick fog. Sweeny hopped off the dock and together they lifted a carte from the back of the cart and carried it inside. As they made their way past me, I craned forward to read the label. It was from Thebes! Which meant it had to be from Mum. Her first shipment from the Valley of the Kinds! The first of many, most likely.**

"Yes, there were many," agreed Dad.

**Once they'd placed the crate on an empty worktable, the drayman tipped his cap and hurried back to his cart, anxious to be on his way.**

"I wonder why," Weems said, sarcastically.

**Dolge closed the door behind him with a resounding clang.**

**By this time, the curators had arrived, and we all gathered round to watch Father open the crate. As I inched closer, I saw that, once again, he wasn't wearing any gloves. My own gloved fingers twitched in dismay.**

"Why would gloves make any difference?" wondered Dad.

"**Um, father?"**

**He paused, his hands hovering over the crate. "Yes, Theodosia?"**

"**Aren't you afraid you'll get splinters?" Everyone turned to stare at me oddly.**

"**Nonsense," he said.**

**Of course, I didn't give a fig about splinters. They were the lesast of my worries. But I didn't dare tell him that.**

"I always wondered what that was all about," commented Dad.

**With everyone's attention once again focused on the crate, I shuffled closer to Father's side, trying to reach him before he actually touched whatever it was that Mum had sent.**

"Why?" wondered Dad.

**I made it past Dolge and Sweeny with no problem, but I had to hold my breath as I sidled past Fagenbush. He glared at me, and I glared back.**

**When I reached Father's side, I dipped my hand into the pocket of my pinafore just as he plunged his hands into the crate. As unobtrusively as possible, I slipped a small amulet of protection out of my pocket and into his.**

"Those things don't actually work," scowled Weems.

"How do you know?" asked Mum.

Weems scowled.

**Unfortunately, my action did not go unnoticed. He paused and scowled at me. "What on earth are you doing?"**

"**I just wanted to get a good look, Father. I am the shortest one in the room, you know." To turn his attention from me back to the crate, I leaned forward and peered in. "What do you think she's sent us this time?"**

"What a dishonorable thing, lying to one's father," sniffed Grandmother.

"**Well, that's what I'm trying to find out." His voice was tinged with exasperation Then luckily he forgot all about me as, with great ceremony, he reached into the crate and lifted out an absolutely fetching black statue of a cat: Bastet, the Egyptian fertility goddess.**

"That was one of my favorite finds, actually," commented Mum. "I wonder what happened to it. It's certainly not on display."

"And it's not in the basement; Theodosia catalogged the area," added Dad.

**The moment I laid eyes on it, I felt as if a parade of icy-footed beetles were marching down my spine. My cat, Isis, who'd been skulking under the workmen's bench, took one look at the statue, meowed loudly, then streaked off for parts unknown. I shuddered. Once again Mother had sent us an artifact positively dripping with ancient, evil curses.**

"Hmm... this sounds so much like Egyptian black magic... do you think Theodosia could be telling the truth?" pondered Dad.

"It's nonsense, I'm sure, sir," scowled Weems, and then continued to read, although reluctantly.

"**Are you all right, Theo?" Nigel Bollingsworth, the First Assistant Curator-**

"PREVIOUS First Assistant Curator," corrected Weems, and continued.

**-, asked. "You're not taking a chill, are you?"**

**He studied me in concern. Next to him, Fagenbush stared at me as if I were something nasty that Isis had dragged in.**

"Isn't that the Goddess of Wisdom?" asked Grandmother.

"How do you know that if you said mythology is nonsense?" demanded Mum. "And Isis is Theodosia's cat."

"How impertinant!" sniffed Grandmother. "Proceed, Weems."

"**No, Mr. Bollingsworth. I'm fine."**

**Well, except for the black magic rolling off the new cursed object.**

**Of course, Mother never realized it was cursed. Nor did Father. Neither one of them ever seemed able to tell.**

**None of the assistant curators seemed to notice anything, either. Except for that rat Fagenbush.**

"Who's a very suspicious character, no doubt," added Weems.

**He eyed the statue with his face aglow and his long, bony fingers twitching. The problem was, he looked like that half the time, so it was hard to know if it was his reaction to the artifact or he was just being his own horrid self.**

**As far as I knew, I was the only one able to detect the black magic still clinging to the ancient objects.**

"You probably are," remarked Mum.

"IF there's such thing as Egyptian curses," Grandmother reminded her.

**Therefore, it was up to me to discover the nature of this statue's curse and how to remove it.**

**Quickly.**

"Why quickly?" wondered Mum.

**When Mother arrived tomorrow, she was sure to have loads of new artifacts with her.**

"Which you did," remarked Dad.

**Even more crates would trickle in over the next few weeks. Who knew how many of those items would be cursed? I could be busy for months! The only good thing was that it would keep me out of Mother and Father's way. They tend to get annoyed when I'm underfoot, and then begin talking of sending me off to school. This way, at least I'd be able to spend time with Mum.**

"Speaking of that, you really SHOULD send her off to school," reminded Grandmother.

**Still, while hunches and gut instinct were all well and good for a First Level Test, I had to be logical and scientific about this. I needed to conduct a Level Two Test as soon as possible.**

**My chance came when everyone had cleared out of the receiving bay and returned to their duties. Since I didn't have any duties to return to, I was able to hang back unnoticed.**

"I should've given her duties earlier," muttered Dad.

**I went over to one of the shelves that lined the receiving area and took down a small, battered Canopic jar. It had come in badly damaged, and since it wasn't particularly valuable, no one had taken the time to restore it. I had begun using it for collecting wax-**

"A terrible hobby for a young lady," sighed Grandmother.

**-(old candle stubs, sealing wax, that kind of thing), which I used extensively in my Second Level Test. Wax is very good at absorbing heka, or evil magic.**

**I removed some of the wax bits from the jar and carefully set them in a circle around the base of the statue.**

"Why would one do that?" pondered Mum.

**By dinnertime, the entire circle of wax bits was a foul greeny-black color.**

"Disgusting!" Grandmother wrinkled her nose.

**Drat! I don't think the wax has ever turned dark that quickly before. Now I had to come back and conduct a Third Level Test. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I needed moonlight. Moonlight is the only way to make the inscribed curses visible to the human eye.**

"What kind of nonsense is that?" exclaimed Dad.

**Of course, the only way to view something in the moonlight is at night. And I loathe the museum at night.**

"That's the end of the chapter," remarked Weems. "Would you like me to go on?" He looked as if he wanted to do anything but that.

"I'll read," offered Mum.

**A little OOC, especially with Mum, but pretty good, huh?**

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Moonlight Test

THE MOONLIGHT TEST

**Wow! One day and I've already updated! I'm doing pretty well this time! This next chapter is a little bit less long, but still, it's an important chapter.**

Mum wondered if these curses Theodosia spoke of were true. But now, she had a job to do: read the story to Weems, Henry and Grandmother.

**As luck would have it, it turned out to be another one of those nights when Father became so absorbed in his research that he forgot all about going home. It was the fourth night in a row, and for a change, it worked well with my own plans.**

"Oh, Theodosia," sighed Mum. "What are you going through? Maybe we SHOULD send you to school..."

**Just before midnight, I ventured out of the staff room into the museum. The gaslights had been turned low so that just a tiny blue bead glowed along the dark hallway at regular intervals. The feeble light from my oil lamp barely made a dent in the cavernous darkness, but I didn't let that deter me.**

"You should have used a flashlight," suggested Mum.

**I reached up and clutched the three protective amulets that hung around my neck.**

By now, Weems was trying to secretly leave the room. "I will not stand for such nonsense as this," he muttered.

**Father says I let my imagination run away with me, but the truth is, in the darkest hours of the night, if you look very closely (which I try not to) you can see the dangerous dead-the akhu and mut-rise up out of their urns and sarcophagi like a thick, choking mist.**

Grandmother gasped and fainted. Dad tried to revive her, but he looked like he'd rather not. Mum told Weems, "Stay here, Weems," as Weems had just put one foot out the door. He gulped and hurried back to the table.

**The ancient magic and words of terrible power ooze out of the arcane texts and inscribed objects.**

Grandmother had to restrain herself so as not to faint again. She looked disgusted and highly taken aback at the same time.

**They hover in the corners and lurk in the shadows. How could I possibly venture out into that without some protection, I'd like to know?**

"Good point," muttered Mum.

**Not wanting to make any noise that might draw the spirits' attention, I padded along in my stockinged feet, which were soon numb with cold.**

"Poor Theodosia," Mum murmured.

**Of course, Father had moved the wretched statue from the receiving area up to his workroom on the third floor.**

"Of course," commented Dad.

**I hugged the wall as I crept up the poolished wooded stairs, careful to avoid the ones that creaked.**

**No matter how quiet I was, the deep, gaping shadows around me seemed to grow larger and more forbidding. I was painfully aware of the last earthly remains, bones, coffins, and sacred relics of old, long-forgotten religions surrounding me.**

Grandmother gasped and seemed creeped out.

**In the light of my oil lamp, the shadows bobbed and weaved like leering demons.**

Now even Mum seemed creeped out.

**At last I reached the third floor and entered Statuary Hall. Enormous Egyptian sculptures lined the walls like ever-watchful guardians. The majestic faces of pharaohs stood side by side with mysterious sphinx heads, the smallest of which towered twenty feet high and cast harsh puddles of blackness on the floor.**

"I go through nearly every day looking at those, and _I _never get creeped out," bragged Dad.

**I hurried past the looming statues until I reached the doorway that led into the Ancient Egypt Exhibit.**

"The pride of our museum," smiled Dad.

**I paused, bracing myself. Even though I patrolled this exhibit as often as possible, I could never be too sure what might be waiting for me in there. Magic is a tricky business, and the Egyptians were masters of it. Some spells seemed to regenerate themselves after a full moon or on specific unholy days. Others were only visible during certain seasons or when the stars and planets were aligned just so.**

"I didn't know that stars and planets had to do with Egyptian Black Magic," muttered Mum.

**All in all, ancient Egyptian magic is a horrid jumble of sinister possibilities, and I never take anything for granted when dealing with it.**

**With one fortifying breath, I made a mad dash through the room, scurrying past the exhibit cases, looking neither to the right nor the left. Wit one last shiver, I reached the workroom door, yanked it open, and slipped inside.**

"Oh, dear," murmured Mum.

**This room was dark, too, but pale, silvery moonlight shone in through the windows. And in that pale moonlight sat the statue of Bastet, an intricate, malevolent pattern of sacred words and symbols writhing across its surface like a nest of restless vipers.**

"This young lady knows very sinister words for her age," sighed Grandmother.

**Sometimes I really hate being right.**

**As I drew near the statue, I caught the Symbol of Anubis, god of the underworld, as well as one for Seth, the god of chaos. There! Another symbol floated by, one I hadn't seen much but I think represented the demonic spirits of the restless dead. **

"Honestly! What have you been teaching this young lady?" demanded Grandmother.

"We didn't teach her this. She must have learnt it all by herself," replied Mum, and then continued reading.

**Any hopes I'd had of a rather small curse disappeared.**

Mum shuddered. She hoped the curses weren't real, but by now she doubted it.

**I was dealing with an artifact positively steeped in vile, Egyptian black magic.**

**I needed a closer look, so I would have to pick the horrid thing up.**

Now even Grandmother shuddered.

**I glanced around the workroom. Wearing gloves wasn't protection enough when the hieroglyphs were swarming like this. The symbols had a way of trying to poke their way through the gloves and into my hands. I wasn't very keen on those words and symbols of evil power running along my skin, if you please.**

Mum looked around, and again caught Weems very close to the door, murmuring that he had better things to do than listen to hogwash about 'curses'.

**I found an old rag on Father's worktable and wrapped it around my hand like an extra glove. Then I picked up the statue and carried it over to the window to have a better look.**

**The symbols slowed a bit once the statue was in my hand. I felt them probing at the rag, trying to get past the cloth barrier and worm their way into my flesh.**

"Be careful!" warned Mum.

"You talk to books?" exclaimed Grandmother. Mum glared at her.

**I had to hurry.**

**The symbol of Apep, the serpent of chaos, floated by, followed by Mantu, the god of war.**

"What a strange combination," mused Mum.

**How odd. I'd never seen him on a cursed object before. There were more symbols: symbols for armies and destruction and-**

"Oh dear," murmured Mum.** "**Poor Theodosia."

**There was a creak on the floorboards just outside the workroom door. Jolted into action, I scurried across the room, thrust the statue back on its shelf, and frantically searched for a hiding place.**

"What horrid manners, stealing an artifact and then trying to HIDE it!" gasped Grandmother.

**There were lots of shadowy corners, but I wanted something more substantial than that.**

**Spying an old packing crate in the corner, I hopped inside and covered myself as best I could with bits of packing material.**

"Disgusting," sniffed Grandmother.

**I hunkered down, averted my eyes from the door, and waited.**

**You may wonder why I didn't look up to see the intruder. I can assure you, I wanted to. But I've lived alongside the restless, ancient spirits long enough to know that when you look at things, you focus your whole ka, or life force, on them, which causes their power to grow even stronger.**

"Nonsense," muttered Weems. "Don't you agree?"

"No," snapped Mum, and proceeded with the story.

**If this nighttime visitor was of the supernatural variet, focusing my life force on it was as good as shining an oil lamp in its face.**

**My oil lamp!**

"Oh, dear," thought Mum.

**I peered through a crack in the side of the crate and saw my discarded lantern off to the side of the shelves. Luckily, the flame had gone out.**

"Phew!" breathed Mum.

**The door swung open, creaking slightly on its hinges. The footsteps paused in the doorway, as if the person or thing were surveying the room. Then the floorboards creaked again as someone, or something, stepped inside. I risked a glance through the crack again, just long enough to see a black hooded shape moving across the floor.**

"Please, please, PLEASE," murmured Mum, "Tell me that the figure is a person and not a thing."

**I wrenched my gaze away and tried to still the beating of my heart. It sounded like thunder to my ears-surely the intruders would hear it!**

**The footsteps came to a stop in front of the shelves, mere inches from where I was hiding.**

Mum tried not to squeal in concern.

**Risking another peek, I saw the large black shape studying the middle shelf, where I'd put the statue of Bastet back in its place.**

"Maybe he's the one who stole the Heart of Egypt, and he also stole the Bastet statue..." murmured Dad. "That's a likely hypothesis, don't you think, dear?"

Somehow, Mum doubted it.

**As my eyes swept downward again, I noticed two black shoes poking out from under the figure's long cape.**

"Which means it's a person!" thought Mum.

**My heart calmed a bit. Supernatural beings don't wear shoes. Whatever it was—whoever it was—it must be human. Which I greatly preferred to the alternative.**

"I'd prefer that too, were it me," commented Mum.

"But ma'am," protested Weems, "I doubt that Theodosia is telling the truth about these curses and whatnot.

"My daughter," replied Mum, "Would not tell lies."

Weems snorted.

**Although, anyone skulking around a museum in the dad of night was probably up to no good. Except for me, of course—I had only the noblest of motives.**

"Sure," snorted Grandmother, rather sarcastically.

**Slightly more confident now, I risked another glance and saw a long, black arm snake out from underneath the cloak. The movement sent a slight current of air toward me and I caught a whiff of boiled cabbage and pickled onions.**

**Clive Fagenbush!**

"I knew it!" declared Weems. "He's always been suspicious..."

**Before I could sort out this puzzle, there was another squeak of the floorboards outside the workroom door. With a hiss of indrawn breath, Fagenbush snatched his empty hand back, then stepped around the shelves and flattened himself against the wall so that he was hidden from sight.**

"A very suspicious thing to do!" announced Weems.

**He now faced directly toward me. I scrunched down as small as I could in the crate and wished I were invisible.**

**The new intruder fumbled loudly with the doorknob, not even trying to be quiet.**

"That 'intruder' is your FATHER!" declared Dad. "How dare you insult me so, Theodosia?" he demanded.

**A quick, sure step came into the workroom, accompanied by a tuneless whistle.**

**I slumped in relief. It was only Father, on one of his midnight ramblings.**

"How dare you call them ramblings?" exclaimed Dad.

**He turned up the gas and flooded the workroom in soft yellow light.**

**Wondering if Father could see him, I glanced over at Fagenbush's hiding spot, only to find he'd disappeared.**

**I craned my neck, trying to see where he had gone, but he was nowhere in sight. Then I glimpsed a flutter of movement near the door as he slipped out of the workroom.**

"A shame you didn't see him, sir," muttered Weems.

**Bother! He'd gotten clean away. But at least he hadn't conked Father over the head or discovered my whereabouts.**

**As I crouched in the crate, I realized I needed to come up with a plan to get my hands on that statue before somebody else did.**

"How disrespectful!" sniffed Grandmother.

**I considered taking it back to my room, but I couldn't bear the thought of those loathsome curses anywhere near me as I slept. I finally settled o nhiding it that night, then returning it first thing in the morning while Father was having breakfast.**

"At least she was _planning _on returning it," muttered Dad.

**It took ages for Father to find whatever it was he was looking for, but he finally left, turning out the lights and closing the door behind him. I waited a few minutes more to let him get safely out of the way. Once my eyes readjusted to the darkness, I climbed out of the crate and went over to the shelf. Using the rag, I lifted the statuette and placed it in the crate where I'd been hiding.**

"A good hiding place," thought Mum.

**I tossed some packing material over it, then grabbed my oil lamp, now uselessly dark, and made my was over to the door. I peeked out into the exhibit room.**

**The museum seemed unusually restless. The creaks and groans had grown louder and more frequent.**

Mum shuddered.

**With my hand clutched firmly around all three amulets, I raced back through the display rooms. I felt disgruntled dead things rustle as I passed, the shadows growing longer as they reached out towards me.**

Now even Grandmother and Weems were shuddering, however slightly.

**I put on an extra burst of speed.**

**Now do you see why I loathe the museum at night?**

"Yes," replied Mum and Grandmother.

"That's the end of the chapter," said Mum. "Why don't you read for a while, Henry?"

"All right," said Henry. "This next chapter is called Work To Do."

**Well, that's it for this chapter, and now I need to work on the next! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE review! Review and I'll update!**


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